


106 Degrees

by joliemariella



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 07:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13476804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joliemariella/pseuds/joliemariella
Summary: It's the 1940s and temperatures in the city have reached sweltering new heights, sending Sans to Frisk's apartment in search of relief from the heat.





	106 Degrees

**Author's Note:**

> **IMPORTANT PLEASE READ FOR STORY CONTEXT** : So this was meant to be a future one shot for another fic I was going to write, but I've since decided to just work on that as an original novel rather than a fanfic XD Still, I already had this written and I remembered it today and figured I might as well post it! Premise is that Sans is a police detective in 1940's Ebott City in a world where monsters walk among humankind unnoticed thanks to glamours and other such magic that disguise them. Frisk is a French born reporter that helped him solve a serial murder case, during which they fell in love and wound up in a relationship XD Everything French is in italics for clarity's sake. Copy and paste it into Reverso if you're not up on your French hehe.
> 
> Enjoy! Please don't ask me to continue this, since I already do have plans to make it an actual published novel, lol. At most I might come back later and add a bonus smut chapter (which I originally intended to include but never got around to lol). Do tell me what you thought and what your favorite part was, though, I love hearing that!

Ebott City was no stranger to hot weather come summertime, with temperatures sitting comfortably in the high eighties on the regular, and occasionally climbing into the nineties every week or two. Things had hit a new high on this particular Tuesday in July, however, when the local radio station declared the current temperature to be a sweltering one-hundred and six degrees.

As he stepped out the front door of the precinct and the hot, muggy air hit him like an uncomfortably moist slap to the face, Sans was inclined to believe all the claims that this was the hottest day on record. 

“Holy mackerel,” the detective grumbled under his breath as he winced then immediately loosened his tie and undid the top button of his white linen shirt. What few people were out on the street had taken similar steps to stave off heat stroke, and Sans was glad he hadn’t bothered to put his jacket on. 

Out of habit more than actual thought, Sans’ hand went for the cigar case he’d left tucked in the breast pocket of the jacket currently slung over his shoulder. As soon as his fingers brushed the familiar metal rectangle, though, he grimaced and immediately rethought the impulse. On a day like this even his favorite vice held little temptation.

“Hey, Jack. Leaving already?” a voice behind the man asked, making him glance back over his shoulder to see one of first precinct’s beat cops in full uniform coming down the stairs towards him.

“Yeah,” Sans replied with a half-hearted huff. “This heat’s real bad business,” he groused and settled his hat on his head. “Tryin’ to work up the energy to even get goin’ is proving a bit tough,” he admitted. The officer made a grimace of sympathy and Sans eyed him. “On duty?”

The younger man nodded unhappily. “Drew the short straw on shifts apparently,” he replied mournfully.

A wry grin tugged at San’s lips. Still wearing his glamour as he was, rather than seeing a six foot tall skeleton, the young officer saw a six foot tall man with dark, olive skin, and slicked back, curly black hair that was beginning to go grey at the temples. He had extremely broad shoulders and a wrestler’s build that gave the impression of being a little overweight while, in fact, being heavily muscled. Most striking, however, were the detective’s eyes, which were a curiously pale shade of blue not often seen in humans.

“You have my sympathies,” Sans said with a low chuckle. 

“Thanks, Jack,” the other man said blandly and passed him on the stairs. “You have a good one, such as you can find.”

“Yeah, you too.”

_ Such as you can find _ … Well, it’d most likely be cooler down in the Underground, especially if he decided to stop over in Snowdin. Unfortunately, since teleporting there was impossible even for him, that was a long walk and a train ride away, and the oppressive heat was sapping the monster’s strength just standing there. The train station had little in the way of cover to teleport in this time of day, too, so that option was out. Desperate, the detective cast a glance up and down the street, and though packed with cars, there was nary a cab for hire in sight.

On the other hand, Frisk’s swanky new apartment was only a handful of blocks away, and though they hadn’t made plans for that afternoon he had a standing invitation to stop by whenever. Even if he had to wait awhile for her to get home from work, camping out in her sixth floor apartment with its bay windows made to catch every stray breeze would be better than standing around out here in the sun.

Decision made, Sans set off down the street, sticking to what shade the buildings around him provided, though it made very little difference in temperature. A block into his journey, the detective was convinced the heat had become a physical thing that pressed in on all sides and dragged at his limbs with each step he took. His normally quick wits and sharp eye were dulled under the incessant beating of the sun’s rays from on high.

Christ, what he wouldn’t give for a few clouds in the sky.

A trolley rolled by, bell ringing as it crossed an intersection, and Sans briefly considered catching the next one for at least a few blocks. When he saw how crowded it was, though, he quickly ditched the idea. The very thought of having to squeeze in with so many other sweating, tightly packed bodies made him want to scream.

By some miracle Sans made it to Frisk’s apartment building and into the elevator without dropping dead of heat stroke and heaved a tremendous sigh of relief. The building’s air conditioning system was obviously struggling to fight the intense weather conditions as it was still quite warm inside, but it was a damn sight better than what he’d just escaped outdoors.

On a normal day, Sans would have at least attempted to make himself presentable before showing up on Frisk’s doorstep, but at the moment he just couldn’t manage to work up the energy. He knocked on her door, but there was no answer. After trying a second time and still getting nothing, the man reached into his pants pocket, dragged out his keys, and let himself in with the spare she had given him.

He entered quietly and locked the door behind him out of habit, then dropped his coat and hat on the stand in the entryway and made a bee-line for the kitchen. On reaching the refrigerator, the detective tugged open the icebox and stuck his head in with a sigh of deep satisfaction as the cool air caressed his overheated brow. Units with built in freezers were new on the market, and not quite commonplace, enough so that Sans himself didn’t have one at his own place down in the Underground. Then again, things there were always a few years behind.

Feeling like a man brought back from the brink of death, Sans pulled his head out of the chill before  _ all  _ the cold could escape, but not before noting that the water in the ice trays within had yet to freeze. The suspicious bastard in him that was always taking note of little details filed this away for later while Sans himself shut the freezer and let his glamour drop.

The spell contained in his skull and crossbones cufflinks flared and released, returning Sans to his natural monstrous state as he turned and noted the number of fans scattered around the room for the first time. Every single electric fan his lover owned was out and running, plus a few he was pretty sure were new. 

“Frisk?” he called, brow furrowed. It wasn’t like her to leave a bunch of appliances running while she was out. The woman had grown up in a wealthy family, but he’d never known her to be the wasteful type.

The apartment, while nice, was not very big, so it was only the work of a moment for Sans to confirm that the living room, office, and bedroom were all empty. Before he could leave the bedroom, though, the detective noted that there was a trail of clothes on the floor leading to the master bath, the door of which had been left ajar.

In anyone else’s apartment (especially his own), he wouldn’t have thought twice about this. Frisk, however, was not the type of woman to leave her clothes laying about willy-nilly. His curiosity peaked, Sans entered the room properly and pushed open the bathroom door.

The sight he found within brought a smile to his face.

The master bath was cooler by far than the rest of the apartment, no doubt owing to the great deal of porcelain and tile that covered almost every surface, including the black and white checker patterned floor. The room was nearly half the size of the master bedroom, something Sans had yet to stop teasing Frisk over, but had apparently been a deciding factor for the woman in choosing this apartment in particular. The bathtub dominated the room, and a mighty thing it was. It was a traditional clawfoot design, and was deep enough that Frisk had acquired a step stool just to get in and out of the thing without breaking her neck.

It was here that Sans found his lover, water as high as she could get it without overflowing and dotted with the ice cubes the detective had noted missing when he’d infiltrated the freezer. Frisk floated blissfully in what must have been  _ very _ cold water, her knees, nose, and mouth the only parts of her exposed to the air. The petite woman could very nearly stretch out to full length in the tub, but came up just shy.

Still grinning at the sight, Sans stepped in closer, head cocked to one side as he admired the view. Curiously, Frisk had left her slip on before climbing into the tub, and the transparent silk floated diaphanously around her in the water. Somehow the addition of that little bit of fabric made its owner all the more alluring.

The detective seriously considered leaning down and stealing a kiss, but reconsidered at the last moment. With her head mostly underwater, Frisk had clearly not heard him enter, and seeing as she certainly wasn’t expecting him, he had a feeling that a panicked slap was all his romantic gesture would earn him.

Instead, Sans reached out and rapped his knuckles lightly against the side of the tub, much as he had on her door just a few minutes before. As he had expected, Frisk gave a start, jolting in the water, her eyes flying open in her surprise. She started to sit up, but stopped when she recognized the monster standing over her.

“Sans!” she exclaimed with a breathy laugh as she relaxed back in the water once more, though at an angle so her ears were no longer submerged and she could hear him. “ _ Mon beau _ , you scared me half to death,” the woman huffed without venom.

“sorry, cookie. i did knock first,” Sans remarked as he seated himself on the edge of the bathtub.

The woman hummed in response, arching one delicate brow at him as if questioning this before breaking into a smile of her own. “ _ C’est bon _ . You should have called first, though. I would have put on clothes.”

The monster allowed his eyes to trail over her mostly bare figure in the most obvious way possible and grinned wolfishly. “glad i didn’t then,” he teased, low voice gone rough with appreciation at the sight that had met him on entering. 

When they’d first met, Sans would have said that Frisk wasn’t his type in the looks department, though time had brought him to appreciate her considerable physical charms on top of her already engaging personality. He’d always gone in for curvy redheads in the past, so Frisk’s chestnut curls and extremely modest a-cup chest were definitely a change of pace. Her hips, however, were god’s own blessing in his book, and he was convinced the act of watching her walk away could send an atheist to Sunday confession. The thoughts they could inspire when she moved them with any sort of intent would probably send that same atheist straight to hell. What she did with them in bed had shown Sans heaven’s own pearly gates, though, so he supposed it all came full circle in the end.

“ _ Vilain _ ,” Frisk chided him. Her sweet, husky voice and the way she glanced up at him from under her long, dark lashes managed to actually spark some energy in the monster, sluggish from the heat though he was.

He laughed and reached into the cool water to flick a few droplets at the would be nymph and asked, “so, what’s with the neglige, doll? bathtime a formal affair now?”

The woman shifted in the tub a little so her knees dropped below the surface of the water and her head rose, dark hair plastered to her scalp. The locks that trailed in the water, though, formed a silken cloud around her slim shoulders. “It’s so  _ hot, _ ” she complained with a dramatic sigh. “I was so desperate to cool off I didn’t notice I was still wearing it until I was already in.” Frisk glanced up at him and remarked, “I’m surprised you made it here without melting,  _ chéri _ .”

“i almost didn’t,” he mused. “radio said it was a-hundred and six when i left the precinct.” Frisk made a sound of disgust at this news and he chuckled. “didn’t you have some big to-do you were supposed to cover today?” he asked, memory of a conversation they’d had a few days before coming back to him.

Frisk nodded, seeming pleased he had remembered. “The governor was supposed to host an event at town hall for some visiting dignitaries, but they cancelled it because of the heat,” she explained. “There’s  _ nothing  _ going on today,” she said with a sigh. “Probably for the best,” the reporter admitted with a light snort, then winked at him and said, “Means  _ I  _ get to be here in my little tub instead of frying out in the sun.”

“not surprised. pretty sure even the criminals are taking the day off,” Sans remarked with some amusement as he settled himself more comfortably on the edge of the tub. “not sure this counts as a ‘little’ bathtub, though, cookie.”

“ _ Vraiment _ ? I still can’t stretch out all the way,” Frisk said mournfully as she sank further into the water once more.

“see, problem is, i think what you’re really lookin’ for is a pool,” Sans teased her.

Frisk snorted, then cupped her hands and expertly squirted the monster with a jet of water that caught him right in the face.

“hey!” he sputtered as the woman broke into gales of laughter. He splashed her back, but considering she was already soaked, it hardly had the same impact. “you’re gonna turn into a prune in there if you don’t watch it, doll.”

Frisk lifted her hands from the water and examined her fingertips, which were indeed threatening to go wrinkly. “Would you still love me as a prune?” she asked, contriving to look up at him with big, wistful eyes. Her humor was betrayed by the quirking of her lips, however.

Sans pretended to give the question some thought before answering, “well, i’ve never been particularly fond of prunes… but I’m sure the taste will grow on me.” Her scandalized gasp made him throw his head back and laugh long and loud.

“ _ Vilain _ !” she repeated. “The sun addled your brain, I think,” Frisk said and joined in his laughter.

When he had himself back under control again, Sans asked, “so, you ever coming out of there, my little mermaid?”

Frisk shot him a coy look that he knew meant she was up to something, but the monster only realized what too late. “No,” she replied, then reached up and grabbed him by his suspenders. “ _ You  _ are coming  _ in, _ ” she said and gave a hearty tug.

“hey now!” he exclaimed, startled by her sudden attack. He threw one hand out and caught himself on the opposite side of the tub before he could tumble in on top of her fully clothed. “you can’t just-”

Frisk silenced his complaint with a kiss, using her hold on him to lift herself from the water to meet him halfway. Her lips were wonderfully cool against his, soft and pliant as ever when they moved, coaxing him into returning the gesture with every ounce of her considerable skill.

“Join me,  _ chéri _ , there’s room for two,” the woman murmured against his mouth, voice practically a purr as she shifted up onto her knees in the tub and slipped her slim, dripping arms around his neck and pulled him in closer yet.

“i feel a little overdressed,” he said between kisses, though he knew from experience that he was fighting a losing battle. Sans slipped the arm not currently keeping him from watery disaster around Frisk’s waist and raked his fingers up her back, relishing the cool slickness of her under his palm. Her silk slip clung to her and left nothing to the imagination, transparent as it had been rendered by the water.

The woman seemed to care little for his relative state of dress and only tugged more firmly. “ _ Avec moi _ ,” she urged, knowing full well he couldn’t say no when she started talking French in that breathy way she had.

Drove him nuts.

Sans groaned and started to let himself fall forward, only to catch himself once more. Frisk made a little noise of disappointment and he muttered, “notebook.”

She laughed low in her throat, and without breaking their kiss, slid one hand torturously up his femur and slipped it into his pants pocket. Finding what she was looking for, Frisk tugged the notepad he kept on him at all times and tossed it out the bathroom door into the bedroom where it wouldn’t get wet.

Thus relieved of his excuse, Sans relented and allowed her to drag him into the water. He gasped when he hit, the cold of it sending a shock through his system and making Frisk laugh as the water rose and a great wave of it surged over the edge of the tub and soaked the tile floor.

“jesus, mary, and joseph! that’s  _ cold! _ ” he exclaimed. “how many trays of ice did you add?!”

Frisk laughed and slid over to make room for Sans so he could settle at a more comfortable angle without crushing her legs. “All of them,” she said a little smugly as she pushed at him gently until he lay longways in the tub, though he kept his feet kicked up on the edge to save his shoes a wetting.

A shiver ran up the length of Sans’ spine, but for the first time all day he felt awake, no longer hammered into lethargy by the summer heat. He took a moment and slid down so he could dunk his head, then pushed himself back upright and shook the water free of his eye sockets. “well, wakes a body up, to be sure,” he admitted and relaxed back with a sigh.

In the meantime, Frisk had settled between his legs, but now turned her attention to his shoes which she began to unlace and pry from his feet. These too she threw back through the door into the bedroom, followed by his socks.

“thanks, doll,” he said and pulled his feet down off the tub and let them settle into the water as well.

Frisk flashed him a smile as she turned back to him. Sans watched her with heavy-lidded eyes as she slipped back through the water and proceeded to stretch herself out on top of him. Anywhere else, the day would have been far too hot for such intimacy, but there in her ‘little tub’, it was a slice of heaven.

“Any interesting cases?” Frisk asked him and settled her head to rest on his shoulder, one hand used as a pillow to save herself from the hard line of his collarbone.

Sans snorted and shook his head before letting it drop back against the edge of the tub. “nah, we’re dead in the water,” he said as he lifted his hand and let a few drops drip onto her exposed shoulder.

A quiet huff of amusement escaped the woman. “I’m sure something of interest will come along when the heat dies down.”

“maybe it’d be best if it didn’t, then,” Sans pointed out drowsily. He let his hand drop to rest on her hip and pressed an absent minded kiss to the crown of her dark hair. She only hummed in response, and when he glanced down at her he realized her amber eyes had closed and she appeared in danger of drifting off. “what do you want to do for dinner?” he asked.

“ _ J’ai la flemme _ ,” Frisk murmured in response.

“english, cookie,” he chided, mouth twisting into a wry smile. “or, y’know, them  _ little  _ french words i can actually understand.”

Another huff of amusement and Frisk cracked one eye to look up at him. Truth be told, Sans’ French had come a long ways since they had first met (when it had been non-existant), and the woman always suspected he understood far more than he let on these days. Granted, speaking it was  _ not  _ his strong suit, but he could comprehend a great deal. Casual slang still tripped him up sometimes, however, for which no one could fault him. English slang still caught Frisk off guard on occasion and she’d been speaking it since childhood.

“I am feeling too lazy to think about dinner right now,” she clarified for him.

“three words for all that, huh?”

Frisk rolled her eyes but smiled. “It’s a statement to communicate general laziness or not being in the mood to do something.”

“huh,” he said, then asked, “and what’s that got to do with mucus?”

The woman sprawled across his broad chest and legs laughed and splashed him for his constant questions. “I am also feeling too lazy to explain  _ that. _ ”

“lot of laziness to be found in this tub of yours.”

“Blame the heat,  _ chéri _ .”

Sans yawned widely. “fair enough.”

They both must have drifted off for some time, as when Frisk next opened her eyes it was noticeably darker in the apartment, and the water had gone from cold to lukewarm. She shifted and realized she had slipped further down into the water at some point, no doubt in favor of resting her head on Sans’ stomach rather than his ribs. Frisk loved the monster dearly, but he was not an easy one to cuddle with comfortably if he didn’t have his glamour on.

The woman’s legs complained as she moved, having fallen asleep thanks to the way she’d folded them when she settled. Frisk winced in response and pushed herself into a seated position on her knees, calves all pins and needles. She caught her reflection in the mirror over the sink and grimaced when she saw the way her hair had dried while she slept. Though no longer wet, it was still plastered to her scalp in a less than attractive fashion. 

Frisk glanced sidelong at Sans, but the monster was still dozing, the occasional gentle snore escaping him where he lay, so she quickly dunked her head again. When she righted herself, she pushed her dripping hair back from her face and leaned in to press a kiss to Sans’ cheek.

“Wake up,  _ mon gros _ ,” she said, voice low and gentle. “Evening appears to have snuck up on us.”

Looking at him now, she felt a little guilty for dragging him into the water with his clothes on. Granted, the way his shirt clung to his broad chest and the hard lines of his arms was something she rather enjoyed, so maybe she didn’t really feel all  _ that  _ guilty about it.

At least she hadn’t let his socks get wet.

Sans hummed, but otherwise didn’t budge, making Frisk chuckle and lean in once more, this time pressing her lips to his. The fact that his mouth worked the same as hers despite being made entirely of bone was something that had once baffled her, but was now just part and parcel of the monster she loved. His lips were firmer than your average man's, but still delightfully pliable, and she loved the feel of them against hers. Or any part of her, really.

They began to move now as the skeleton's chest rose with a deep intake of breath that told the reporter she'd managed to stir him from his slumber at last. He turned his head a little and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth then sighed against the flush skin of her cheek before a jaw popping yawn escaped him.

“Awake now?” she asked as she pulled back and regarded him with a smile.

Sans blinked drowsily, then, with a sly sort of smile, asked, “dunno, you gonna stop if i say yes?”

“No,” she replied and closed the distance between them again.

He was ready for her this time, and he pulled Frisk in close, heavy arms twining around her and pinning the woman to his chest. His tongue brushed across her lips, coaxing her into allowing him past her teeth so he could taste her. Frisk smiled against him and her mouth opened, welcoming the sweet sensation of their tongues twining. The kiss was languid, hot, and sweet, and continued for some time, encouraging Sans’ hands to rove down Frisk’s back to her pert rear, which was still covered only by her practically non-existent slip. Her negligee, while tantalizing, only hindered his exploratory efforts as his hands drifted further south, so he tried to pluck at the wet fabric where it clung to her skin with the intent of removing it. Unfortunately, it proved too slick for him and he wound up pinching the woman instead, making her squeak in surprise and swat his hand away with a laugh.

“hey, where you goin’?” Sans asked, looking wounded as Frisk pulled back and proceeded to climb out of the tub.

The woman cast a glance back over her shoulder at him and laughed before answering. “I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.”

“but-” he began.

“Dinner before dessert,” she teased, then tossed him a towel before taking another for herself and starting to dry off. The water on the floor had mostly dried while they napped, but there were still wet patches to navigate around lest one of them wind up breaking their necks.

Sans caught the towel and sighed hugely at this change in plans, cursing his clumsy fingers for their slipup. Still, now that she mentioned it, the skeleton realized that hunger was, in fact, a gnawing presence deep in his gut he’d only been able to ignore as long as Frisk was offering him something more tempting that food. Now that  _ she _ was off the table, dinner began to seem a more intriguing prospect.

Frisk worked on towel drying her hair while Sans got to his feet and considered his wet clothes for a moment. Deciding there wasn’t any point in getting the floor any more wet and risk breaking his own neck on all that tile, he drained the tub, then stripped and dried himself off before stepping out.

“my spares still in the office?” he asked as he wrapped the towel around his waist and went for the door. On his way past Frisk, he reached out to goose her, only to be foiled when she anticipated him and swung her hips out of his reach.

“Yes,” she answered, a smug smile on her full lips as he pouted at his near miss. Apparently intent on torturing him, the woman stripped out of her slip and cast it into the tub with his own abandoned things and flounced past him into the bedroom wearing not a stitch, hips swaying in that way she knew drove him mad.

“now you’re just bein’ mean, cookie,” he grumbled half-heartedly, unable to be anything remotely akin to mad when he at least got to watch the show, even if he couldn’t ride the ride.

Frisk just laughed and waved him off as she went to her own closet and began to rummage in it for something light to wear. 

The oppressive heat seemed to have died down some, but the temperature remained in the nineties outside, despite the sun being all but down. Still, any bit of relief was better than nothing, Sans figured as he wandered into the office and tugged open the door of the small closet within. From floor to midpoint was stacked full of document boxes, but hanging from the rack was the khaki colored suit Sans kept at Frisk’s for convenience sake, as well as a few shirts and ties. The detective retrieved the tan trousers quickly enough, but the thought of wearing the matching jacket made the skeleton want to break out in a sweat just standing there in his towel. After a moment’s further sorting through his limited options, Sans passed the jacket over in favor of a pale blue casual shirt with short sleeves.

Thus dressed, Sans wandered back into the bedroom to find his socks and shoes. The bathroom door was closed, and he could hear Frisk humming to herself in that absent way she had while she finished up. The skeleton smiled to himself and as he put on his socks, called, “bring my cufflinks off my shirt when you come, will you frisk?”

“ _ Oui, chéri _ ,” she called through the door in a sing-song tone that made the monster’s smile turn into a grin as he chuckled and pull on his shoes.

When she stepped out a minute later, Sans had his shoes on and was flipping through the notebook he’d had Frisk remove from his pocket before getting dragged into the tub earlier. He glanced up and let out a low whistle. “well,  _ hello  _ cookie,” he said with a grin that was downright wolfish.

Frisk rolled her eyes at his reaction, but was clearly pleased by the attention all the same if the way her cheeks colored was anything to go by. Like him, the woman had decided to dress light in a short sleeved white blouse and a flowing, knee-length skirt a few shades of blue darker than his own shirt. Her makeup was minimal (which he appreciated, considering how long it could take her to get fully done up to the nines when they went somewhere nice and he was hungrier than ever now), and her dark hair had been braided into a crown around her head.

“Look how handsome you are, _ mon beau _ ,” she said with an appreciative smile as she approached, then went up on tip-toe so she could press a kiss to his cheek. “Blue is always such a wonderful color on you,” Frisk observed and pressed his cufflink glamour into his hand.

“likewise, i’m sure,” he said, feigning a casual air at her flattery while feeling inordinately pleased internally. Not having any cuffs to affix his glamour to, the skeleton tucked the links into his pants pocket as he turned and caught Frisk’s lips in a kiss with expert timing.

The exchange was brief, but sweet, and after a moment he broke contact and gestured for Frisk to lead the way. The woman collected her purse on the way to the door, and by the time they reached it, Sans’ glamour was once more in place, leaving her accompanied by a broad, olive skinned man with striking blue eyes rather than a skeleton.

The walk to the diner was short, and they weren’t the only ones taking advantage of the slight dip in temperature to get out of their homes and find something to eat. It was too warm for Sans to tuck Frisk up under his arm as he preferred to, so they settled for holding hands as they walked. His large, calloused hand dwarfed her smaller, pale one, and she smiled up at him when she caught him looking at her. 

“What?” she asked and squeezed his hand in hers.

Sans’ soul fluttered a little in his chest, the sensation fainter than normal when he wore his glamour, but still poignant. Frisk always did that to him, though. “Nothing,” he said with a soft huff and a shake of his head. The woman quirked a brow at him and he just laughed, then tugged her closer by the hand and pressed a kiss to her temple.

While the detective had developed a good ear for French since meeting Frisk, his attempts at actually speaking it could be rough at the best of times, and unintelligible at worst. There was, however, one phrase he had mastered to the point of fluency.

“ _ Je t’aime _ ,” he murmured in her ear before pulling away again, the back of his neck burning a little at the public admission, however quiet it had been.

Frisk blinked in surprise, amber eyes gone wide as her cheeks colored before she broke out in a smile so sweet Sans thought he felt a pang in his teeth. “ _ Je t’aime aussi, mon chéri _ ,” she said and squeezed his hand tight before dropping her head to rest on his shoulder, making the man’s blush creep up his neck and take over his ears as well. 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hope you guys enjoyed! Please make sure you read the notes at the top of the chapter before asking questions since it might be answered there already lol.  
> Remember to drop a review if you enjoyed and let me know what your favorite part was!


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